


the space between stars

by grahamcracker76



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Idiots in Love, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-16
Updated: 2020-06-16
Packaged: 2021-03-03 18:54:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24760396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grahamcracker76/pseuds/grahamcracker76
Summary: “You’re sure?” he asks when they come up for air, and Harry all but rolls his eyes in response.“Would I have kissed you back if I wasn’t? Yes. I’m very sure.”Or: Harry Kim and Tom Paris soon realize that a casual fling is the least of what they want from each other.
Relationships: Harry Kim/Tom Paris
Comments: 9
Kudos: 46





	the space between stars

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is for my faves, Tom Paris and Harry Kim, who I like to imagine would always get together in the end, even if they are a bit emotionally constipated about it along the way.
> 
> And If you haven’t seen Voyager yet, I highly recommend it! It’s one of my favorite Star Trek series. (:

Like so many things on the starship Voyager, when it happens, it is both completely unexpected and yet entirely predictable.

They’re making their way back to Harry’s quarters after an evening at Sandrine’s, both of them pleasantly tipsy, but not so far gone that they don’t know what’s about to happen. Oh, Tom knows what’s happening, and he’s known for months now. He’s always  _ aware _ of Harry whenever they’re in the same room and it’s been driving him mad - the way his skin seems to tingle when they’re standing close; the way just looking at Harry is enough to turn him breathless; the constant urge to reach out and touch at the most inconvenient moments.

The thing is, Harry isn’t his, but Tom can read signs just as well as the next person. He gets the idea that Harry might like to be, but he’s too nervous to bring up the idea himself. The thing is, Tom is tired of keeping his hands to himself when he’s pretty sure they both want the same thing.

In the end, it’s easy. They’re laughing, loud and careless and bright as the door slides shut behind them. Harry’s arm is slung around Tom’s shoulder he can feel Harry’s warmth against his skin and he smells faintly of cinnamon and Tom is breathless all over again.

Of course Harry notices, because Harry  _ always _ notices. “You okay?” he asks.

Harry’s arm is still around his shoulders, Tom notes faintly as he finds himself pinned in place by his friend’s earnest gaze. Harry’s eyes are warm and his face is flushed and his hair is falling into his face and he’s so  _ close, _ and suddenly Tom can’t wait another moment.

“Yeah,” he breathes, and kisses him.

And it’s easy, to push Harry up against the wall and kiss him like he’s always wanted to, cupping his face between his hands and licking his way into Harry’s mouth. It’s easier still when Harry moans and pulls him closer, tangling their tongues together as he slides his hands up Tom’s back. It feels so right, having Harry pressed up against him with his hands in his hair and his tongue in his mouth, but this is  _ Harry.  _ Harry is his friend, his first friend and his best friend, and Tom has to know.

“You’re sure?” he asks when they come up for air, and Harry all but rolls his eyes in response.

“Would I have kissed you back if I wasn’t? Yes. I’m  _ very _ sure.”

“Good,” Tom says, letting Harry walk him back towards the bed as he works on Harry’s shirt. “Because I was kind of hoping you would fuck me.”

Harry’s breath hitches, his eyes darkening as his fingers tighten on Tom’s waist. “I could be persuaded,” he manages, his voice hoarse, and Tom grins.

“Well,” he says, pulling Harry down to the bed with him, “I am very persuasive.”

“Oh, I know,” Harry agrees, his eyes alight with laughter. Then, he leans down to capture Tom’s lips in another toe-curling kiss, and no one says anything for a long while after that.

***

There’s a moment the next morning when things could get very awkward very fast.

Harry is brushing his teeth in the bathroom and Tom is laying on his back in the bed, staring at the ceiling and wondering if he just made a huge mistake and is about to ruin the best thing that ever happened to him. Then, Harry comes back and sits on the edge of the bed, and Tom knows what to do.

“Look,” he says, “the way I see it, we have two options. We could have the boring ‘what does this mean’ relationship talk. Or, we could agree that this was fun and we should do it again sometime.”

“But just… as friends?” Harry asks. “That’s what you’re saying?”

Tom shrugs. “We’ll always be friends, Harry. You’re… important to me, and that won’t ever change. Everything else… we can take it as it comes.”

“Take it as it comes,” Harry repeats, letting it sink in. Then, he grins. “To boldly go where no one has gone before?”

Tom laughs, pulling him into a kiss. “Something like that,” he says, and feels Harry’s smile against his lips.

***

So they carry on, and it’s  _ brilliant. _ True, they’ve always spent a lot of their time together, but now there’s a lot more kissing involved. Harry is unexpectedly adventurous, more than happy to make out in turbolifts, against bulkheads, and on one memorable occasion in a Jeffries tube. Sometimes, Tom wonders how everything lined up so perfectly to bring them here. Most of the time, he simply lays back and enjoys the rewards of good fortune.

Right now, for instance, it’s 2100 and he’s sprawled out on the couch in his quarters as Harry kisses him deep and dirty, his tongue tracing complicated patterns on the roof of Tom’s mouth as he sticks a hand into his pants and strokes him slow and steady. Tom gasps and pulls away, his fingers tightening on Harry’s waist as a jolt races up his spine. He’s already half-hard, maybe more than, and the touch of Harry’s hand is enough to turn him breathless and incoherent with want as desire races through his veins.

“Damn it, Harry,” he moans, staring unseeing at the ceiling, but he’s so totally  _ not _ complaining, and they both know it. Harry smiles against his neck, his tongue darting out to taste the thrumming pulse point there before he nudges in and sucks hard, all lips and tongue and a tantalizing hint of teeth. 

“Harry,” he says, tangling his fingers in the other man’s hair, hardly knowing if he means to pull him closer or drag Harry’s lips back to his. “Harry, please,” is all he needs to say, because there’s no need to stand on ceremony, and there’s no need for formalities when it’s just the two of them.

Harry  _ knows _ him, and more than that, Harry knows him completely and doesn’t want him any different.

There’s something both comforting and shockingly intimate about it and maybe that should scare Tom, but it doesn’t, it doesn’t, it doesn’t. And maybe he’s just telling himself that, but right now all he wants is to hold Harry closer, so he does. And Harry doesn’t back off or push him away - Harry presses closer and takes his face in his hands and kisses him, and Tom drinks his name from Harry’s lips.

“God Harry, your  _ mouth,” _ he breathes, and Harry grins, pressing a kiss to the corner of Tom’s lips before sliding down to kneel between his legs, planting a trail of wet kisses down his chest as he goes. “Oh,” Tom says as Harry looks up at him through his lashes, because he is totally on board with this plan. He swallows, his throat suddenly dry, and he lifts his hips to help Harry slide off his pants.

Harry is slow and careful as he removes Tom’s pants completely before tossing them to the side, his fingers warm on Tom’s over-sensitive skin as he presses an unexpectedly tender kiss to his ankle. Tom’s breath catches in his throat, because there’s something there in Harry’s eyes, some unnamed emotion in his gaze that neither of them have been brave enough to talk about yet but always seems to be there, just underneath the surface.

Tom wants to ask, and some part of him knows he probably  _ should _ ask, but he doesn’t know how without ruining the moment. Instead, he runs his fingers through Harry’s dark hair and guides him forward, his eyes slipping shut when Harry’s lips close around his cock.

“Yes,” he sighs on an exhale, shuddering as Harry slides down his length, wrapping a hand around the base of his cock to give him better access. He settles his hand on the top of Harry’s head and Harry moans around him in response and  _ oh _ that’s good, all that wet suction and heat and breathless desire.

And then he’s gone, lost in an endless haze of “yes” and “please” and “more.” Tom urges him on, knowing by now that Starfleet’s blushing virgin is neither blushing, nor a virgin. Harry complies without hesitation, carefully watching Tom’s face, and damn if he’s not reading Tom like he has him memorized, for all that they’ve only just begun.

And it’s never been like this with anyone else; Tom’s never felt close enough or safe enough with anyone else to let himself fall apart completely and utterly in their arms, trusting them to help put him back together again. But this is Harry. Tom likes Harry, and he trusts Harry, and he knows it would be so  _ easy _ to let himself go, to let himself fall. If he’s honest with himself, he thinks he’s already halfway there.

And the look in Harry’s eyes and the feel of his mouth and lips and tongue makes him feel like he belongs, makes him hope that Harry might feel the same. It undoes him completely, that look in Harry’s eyes on his as he slides his tongue over the head of his cock, and Tom bites out a strangled curse, tugging insistently on Harry’s hair

“Fuck, Harry, get up here,” he gasps, and Harry pulls off his cock in one long, wet slide, his lips swollen and shining. Tom groans and drags him close until Harry is sprawled over him, one hand resting on his chest and the other braced on the couch behind them.

“Harry,” Tom pleads, drawing him close and moaning when he tastes himself on Harry’s tongue, heady and bitter. Harry makes a high, keening sound in the back of his throat and thrusts against him, and Tom can feel that Harry is just as affected as he is, just as wanting and desperate.

“Close,” Harry warns, and Tom can feel it in the trembling of Harry’s thighs, in the way he crowds impossibly closer, in the way his kisses become clumsy and desperate. Tom works a hand between their bodies and strokes them together, rough as he knows they both need it. Harry bites down on Tom’s lower lip and squeezes his eyes shut and goes slack against him as he comes hot and hard. Tom follows him a few seconds later with a shout and they collapse together in a tangle of limbs.

“Fuck,” Tom says fervently, and Harry murmurs his agreement, pressing his lips to Tom’s collarbone and snaking an arm around his waist, clearly planning on settling in. Tom laughs, shoving at him playfully. “If we don’t clean up we’ll end up stuck together,” he warns.

Harry just grumbles in response, cracking open an eyelid and smiling up at him. “I’m not going anywhere,” he says. “I’m here, as long as you want me.”

Tom’s heart stutters in his chest as he meets Harry’s gaze, warm and steady. “Okay,” he says softly, gently tracing the curve of Harry’s lips with a thumb. “You should know, that might be a while.” He can tell from the way Harry’s eyes soften that he knows that Tom’s agreeing to… everything, anything. The two of them together, whatever the future holds.

“Okay,” Harry says, reaching for Tom’s hand and tangling their fingers together. “But next time, let’s move to a bed, okay? This floor is murder on the knees.”

Tom laughs, bright and surprised, because who would’ve thought it would be like this, easy and comfortable as an extension of their friendship and all they are together. It leaves him breathless, and he presses his lips to the top of Harry’s head, almost giddy with happiness.

“Okay,” he says, and he holds Harry close. Neither of them plans to let go any time soon.

***

E N D

***

  
  



End file.
